This Mare was Maid for You
by Vinsfield
Summary: Another 2nd person story, one-shot, and told and narrated where "You" are the main character. "You" are the only human in Equestria, living life among sentient and brightly colored ponies, but not in canon with my other story with the same concept. "You" are vacationing at Las Pegasus, and meet a mare who may very well change your life...


**Author's note: This is a little something I had written a while back at another fanfiction site, but never got to posting it here. I suppose I'd might as well for raisins. Also, I had given a name to the main character (You) for the purposes of making it easier to write and making it flow smoothly. Don't like the name of our protagonist? Then that's okay! Use someone else's name, your OC's, or even your own! I picked this name because it's what I would have used if I was the reader rather than the writer. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is property of Hasbro and belong to the legal and respective owners of the series. There is ZERO profit being made out of this and is only for the use of entertainment. Reviews aren't necessary, but appreciated.**

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Your name is... Well... Whatever it says on your driver's license and underwear back on earth. And it reads: Broz, Eriabee

You are the... the only living human who somehow mysteriously ended up in Equestria and living life among these sentient, multicolored, quadrupeds...

...And with the vacation time you have left back in your home in Ponyville, you decided to spend it in the bright light city known as Las Pegasus.

Night falls on you and Luna's vibrant moon and stars light up the sky, while Las Pegasus lit up the earth. As you roam the bustling streets of this prestigious part of Equestria, the architecture and scenery within this lively city tends to make your mind wander off more often than it should. You didn't really have a particular destination to head to; the atmosphere itself was already enough of a reason to get out and start walking. Much like many of the cities you have visited in the past, each of them had a significant and unique gusto to them. But as appealing to the eyes as they all were, they never really compared to the simple setting of home in P0nyville.

Simple was how you liked it, but there wasn't really anything wrong with change and you certainly weren't complaining about it. Sure, the city was full of life as always. But at night, it was truly the time that the city came to life and that "she" revealed a more enticing side of her; the kind of side that you don't see in tourism brochures where they have a cookie-cutter fake family wearing fake smiles…

No, no, no. We're talkin' about the buck wild nighttime crowd that came out when Celestia's sun was turning in; the kind your mother would kill you for hanging out with; the "creatures of the night," if you will. They were certainly a unique crowd. But you were already familiar with this sort of thing.

Just remember the golden rules you laid out for yourself: If she looks and sounds too young, stay the fuck away from her unless you're willing to share a cell with a colt named "Julia." The second rule: NEVER trust anyp0ny that has the same name of the city. The third rule: If any fiber of your being suspects that a pony hitting on you is a colt in drag, there's a VERY good chance it is. And lastly; whatever happens in this city, stays in this city. But that still doesn't mean you should start a pile of dead hookers in your hotel room. They probably wouldn't all fit in the bathtub filled with ice anyways.

As you walk with the night crowd, two ponies suddenly come from behind and stop in front of you with grins that rival the Cheshire Cat's. One was a dark red unicorn with a light blue mane and had a martini glass as a cutie mark, and her companion was a pink Pegasus with a black mane and tail and had what appeared to be a small stage with a stripper pole on it as her cutie mark.

"Well now," the pegasus questions with an unusual amount of interest, "aren't YOU a cute little thing?~"

"Oh! I wholeheartedly agree, dear sister! I just want to eat him all up and make him a part of my complete and balanced breakfast! Tee-hee!" the dark red unicorn giggles while eyeballing you with hunger in her eyes. "How about you buy us both a drink and dinner, Mister? Hmmmm?~"

"No thanks." you reply dryly. "Judging from your breath, the both of you seem to have had plenty to drink already. Besides, wouldn't your special somep0nies be pissed if they saw you with someone like me?"

"Oh, that's okay! They're all the way back at Manehattan!" The dark red unicorn says as she reaches for your arm with her fore-hooves and starts tugging on you.

"Thassright!" her sister replies as she gets behind you and starts pushing forward and nudging you with her head. "Besides we've been feeling kinda lonely and we could us a big, strong, handsome, and well-dressed colt to keep us company for the night! After all, what happens in this city, stays in this city, right? Whadya say?" she continues while giving you a playful growl.

You raise an eyebrow at the both of them. "I didn't catch your names, Miss…"

"Lassy," the dark red one responds, "and my sister's name here is Peggy"

Lassy. Peggy. Lassy and Peggy. Lassy Peggy. Las Peg-... Las Pegasus.

...Eeyup.

"Umm… No," You state sternly as you whip your arm away from her and continue moving forward, "and I'm a human, not a colt."

"Ooooh my! A 'hyoo-min' you say? Sounds exotic!" Lassy chirps with an eerie amount of interest, blocking your path once again.

"And a very feisty one at that!" her sister chimes in with an equal amount of joy, stopping in front of you as well. "Not a colt of many words I see. That's okay, talking always did complicate things! We can just go to your hotel room and skip straight to 'dessert' if you want."

You look into their half-lidded eyes and walk past them without saying a word.

"What are you? Gay or something!?" One of them screams as you walk away.

These damn whores ain't got no fucking manners. Jesus Christ riding a three-legged burro. But we're not going to let that ruin our night out. There was a casino in the horizon that caught your intere-

"Because if you are, we can totally respect that!" Lassy said as she hovers in front of you with her sister joining her by her side.

"W-Wait, what?!" you shout. "NO! I ain't no horsefucker, okay?! Now go bother some other colt or some douchebag and get los-"

"Because," Peggy whispers as she leans in closer to you, "my 'sister' here isn't exactly my 'sister.'"

"So, what? She's a family friend or something?" you ask.

"Tee hee! Nope! I'd say 'she' was more like a brother to me." she responded.

"Your brother?" you query as you tilt your head to the side.

As the gears in your head start turning and grinding, it suddenly hits you like a fat chick running after a school bus at full speed thinking it was the last deep-fried twinkie in existence. Your eyes pop out of your head and you just keep speed walking out of there as fast as you can. God-fucking- speed to you. As you keep darting towards the casino, the sound of slot machines beeping and bits dropping drown out their pleas. Any colt would call you a madman for turning down a night with these two, but then again you weren't really interested in that sort of thing.

…Or colts for that matter.

Inter-species relations seemed rather taboo and despite living in this strange land for quite some time, you still kept true to your roots as a human to the best of your ability. Sure, you'd have urges every now and then, but it's nothing a tub of petroleum jelly, a rubber glove, a bottle of Applejack Daniels, and the cost of your self-respect couldn't fix on those lonely Friday and Saturday nights you have all alone while crying yourself to sleep. Despite being a little too popular with the female crowd, you just couldn't stand seeing yourself getting intimate with a horse, even if they were sentient and probably smarter than you. Most of the time you were able to keep yourself and your mind busy from stuff like that with work and whatever curveball life threw at you. Like right now for instance; you were out on vacation and having the time of your life.

As you enter the hotel casino, you become completely captivated by it. It had a rather elegant and classy style to it, obviously decorated to attract tourists and locals alike. The smell of cigarette and cigar smoke tickles your nose and already you could smell the ash smoke on your clothes. Of course this place wasn't really meant for kids; maybe it had something to do with the gambling, alcoholic beverages being served, or the cocktail waitresses wearing provocative clothing. Not only that, but there was also the matter of random mares dancing very tantalizingly on top of the bars and on stages with stripper poles conveniently located in the center of every card gaming table area. This place was about three hairs away from being labeled a crotch titty bar, but then again the strippers in this casino wouldn't really have anything to appeal to you… sexually.

Because well… ponies.

You weren't really much of a gambler, but that still didn't mean you couldn't have fun and right now you could use a drink. As you take a seat at the nearest bar, you do your best to ignore the mare dancing very seductively on top of the counter. For reasons unknown she keeps looking at your general direction.

"Barkeep!" you call out while knocking on the counter top with your knuckle. "I'll take a Midori Sour," you pause for a moment in thought, "and triple the cherries in it!"

You take the glass and chug it in one gulp.

"Keep'em coming!" you command, slamming the cocktail glass on the bar.

As you wait for your next drink, you are suddenly knocked off your seat and fall to the floor. Luckily, your face breaks the fall. You get up on all fours while disoriented and shake off the dizziness.

"OH! My goodness! I am so very sorry, sir!" a feminine voice with a snooty valedictorian accent calls out to you.

"What the fucking fuck?! Ugh…" you growl while rubbing your face. "Excuse YOU, you clumsy-ass, mother fuc-! …Oh!"

Leaning on the bar chair and counter top to prop yourself up, the world stops spinning as you see the perpetrator. She was a white unicorn with a long horn and she seemed to be taller than the average pony, but not quite as tall as Celestia. However, she did have a thin looking frame that was similar to the Sun Goddess and she might've been thinner around the midsection and face; she could' certainly use a sandwich or two. Maybe even ten. Truth be told; she was thin enough to be some kind of model, but in your opinion she shouldn't be seen in public unless she was holding food in her hooves and mouth. Her long mane and tail was pink with streaks of white and you can see the time and effort she put into styling it just right. She might've been vain when it came to her appearance, but it was certainly something to admire and very appealing to the eyes. There might've been more than just personal reasons as to why she goes out of her way to look so... alluring. On her flank, her cutie mark consists of three Fleur-De-Lis symbols, two of which were yellow and one that was purple. She blinks her large violet eyes, exposing her pink eye shadow which complements her gaze perfectly. Goddamn, if she were a human you'd be all over her! She honestly didn't look that bad! Unfortunately that wasn't the case; she was still an equine. A very sexy looking equine with legs from here to-

WHOA MAN, FUCKSHITPISS! HOERSE! QUADRAPED!

As you shake those thoughts out of your head, you stand up and straighten your clothes out, making yourself look as presentable as possible.

"Heh! Umm," you stammer, clearing your throat as you took your seat, "don't worry about it! Where's the fire anyways there, Miss…"

"Fleur." she says while running her hoof through her mane and standing around like she was posing for the cover of Cosmopolitan. "Fleur-De-Lis."

Fleur-De-Lis. How appropriate.

"A pleasure, Miss Fleur-De-Lis. Name's Eriabee. Eri for short." you greet politely, smiling warmly. "So then, what's the big hurry there? You crash into humans often? Or do you only crash into the ones that are good looking?" you continue, smirking as you cross your legs with your eyes still focused on her.

Even if you didn't have any intimate interest in ponies, that didn't mean that you couldn't look like some kind of Don Juan Dela Nooch. You click your tongue as you point a finger at her. Her apologetic expression vanishes as you pick up your cocktail glass, take a sip, and realize there was no alcohol in it as an avalanche of ice cubes barrage your face and the small red straw nearly pokes your eye out. It catches you by surprise as you start fumbling with the glass and drop it behind the bar by accident. The bartender stares at the pile of shattered glass on the floor and redirects his disapproving eyes at you as he gives you another Midori Sour. He practically slams it on the counter; spilling a little bit of it on the bar.

"Heh, my bad! Um, just put it on my tab." you said, apologetically.

Smooth.

All Fleur-De-Lis does is giggle behind her hooves as you try doing your best to pretend that the previous 10 seconds of your life never happened. Your fragile ego might've been damaged beyond repair, but at least she thought it was entertaining.

"So, umm," you stammer as you try salvaging whatever self-respect you have left, "can I buy you a drink, Miss Fleur-De-Lis?"

Suddenly, her eyes widen as her pupils shrink to pin pricks. She gasps and starts sweating bullets; clearly scared out of her mind.

"Oh no, I completely forgot! I was supposed to be getting another martini for Mr. Fancy Pa-"

"FLEUR!" you hear from afar as your ears perk up. "Where the buck are you and where in Celestia's name is my drink?!"

At this point, you see that the starved-looking unicorn is shaking in place as though she was being placed before a firing squad.

"Jesus," you mutter, glancing over your shoulder, "who pissed in this asshole's oats this morning?" you mutter under your breath.

A high-class-looking colt is stomping towards the bar, and judging from his twitching and the anger seething in his eyes, he seems a little more than upset at poor little Fleur-De-Lis.

"What have you been up to that's taking so damn long?!" he yells. "Seriously, how long does it take to order a martini?! It's bad enough that you screwed up the first one, but now you can't even order another one?! Did you forget how?! What the hell kind of slav-! Er… Wife are you?!"

"Hmph. Wife?" you murmur under your breath, taking a swig of your drink. "What the hell does she see in some asshole like you?" you mutter, under your breath.

Looks like you'll be getting this abusing dickbag a mug that says: "World's Greatest Husband" for his upcoming anniversary.

Fleur-De-Lis continues to shiver and cower behind her hooves as her husband continues causing a scene. You try to enjoy your drink, but this suit-wearing, loud-mouthed, horse cock with hooves was becoming too much of a distraction and really killing the mood and your buzz. As you eyeball him from the side, you see that he was a white colt wearing a suit with a violet bow tie, he had a blue short mane and tail, wore a monocle, had a styled mustache, and has three crowns as a cutie mark.

"If I had a right mind," he continues, berating her in public, "I should send you back to-"

"NO! PLEASE," she cries out in tears, protecting herself from harm as she cowers, "anything but that! I'll be a better serv- Um… wife! You'll see, please give me another chance, S-Sweethart!"

"Hmph," he sneers, "you are so lucky I invested so much into you. Otherwise, you'd be out there with the other bit-a-dozen whores fighting for food and trying to survive."

"A-And I am ever so grateful, Ma- Um… Sweethart!" she replies, sniveling as she trembles with fear.

You look over and see that tears were running down her eyes and that her black mascara was bleeding down her cheeks.

"Now then, go to the bathroom and fix yourself up. You're making me look bad. After that, make yourself useful and get me another martini when you're done." he dictates. "Now be quick about it!"

As Fleur whimpers all the way to the little fillies' room, this overly dressed shitlord sighs as he takes a seat on the bar, rubbing his temples with his forehooves.

"Mother of Celestia, it's so hard to find good help these days," he groans, letting out an exasperated sigh, "wouldn't you agree, sir?" he continues, looking in your direction.

"Yeah," you retort, downing another glass of the over-sweetened alcohol, "you poor thing. Not that it's any of my business, but you seem to be having some marital problems. Might I suggest that you both seek a professional or a counselor?"

He suddenly starts laughing hysterically and uses the bar countertop to keep himself from toppling over.

"Hahahahaha! That's a good one, my good colt!" he guffaws, pounding the bar and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Why, oh why, would I want to sink ANY amount of money into something like that?! She has to have at least SOME value. She's not even worth the makeup she's wearing!"

Your death grip around the cocktail glass starts becoming stronger as your arm starts shivering. It's taking every fiber of your being holding yourself back from snatching a wine bottle and smashing it right between this colt's eyes.

"With all due respect, sir," you grit through your teeth, trying to keep calm and stopping yourself from losing your fist in his face, "I'm being dead serious. If you want your marriage to work, you seriously need to stop treating her like shit and start flying fucking right."

"I don't even love her." he declares, proudly. "Why would I want to waste time and effort on her? She's proving to be a sinkhole for money and other valuable resources that have more worth than her life."

You're not a marriage counselor, but you might've pinpointed the problem. And you happen to be holding a conversation with it.

"That's no way to be talking about your wife there, Mister…" you say, as he finishes your sentence for you.

"Fancy Pants. Mr. Fancy Pants," he boasts with that as-a-matter-of-fact tone in his voice.

"So, if you're investing so much into her, is Miss Fleur-De-Lis just a trophy wife to you, then?" you query.

"A trophy wife?! HA! If she was some piece of cheap flank in the streets, that'd be a step up for her!" he bellows.

"Wait, what?! Didn't you just call her your wife just now? What is she to you then?" you ask, confused.

Mr. Fancy Pants looks around to make sure that nopony is within earshot as the sounds of slot machines and cheering gamblers go about in the background. He leans in close to you while covering the side of his mouth as you lean in yourself.

"The term 'wife' is just a front." he whispers, "Do you want to know the truth?"

"Enlighten me, Mr. Fancy Pants." you ask, fidgeting at the thought of his answer.

"I bought her." he whispers.

You let those words sink in.

"…Come again?"

"I bought her from a trusted dealer." he repeats.

What is she, a used car? What the fuck is he talking about?

"I still don't understand."

"I bought her from a p0ny trafficker, and I got one hell of deal from him; only 500 bits! But after making her look more 'tasteful', I'm starting to think she isn't worth it in the end."

Your eyes widen slightly as your jaw hangs off your mouth, drooling.

"So, what?" you ask interrogatively, closing your mouth. "She's a prostitute with a marriage certificate?"

"Well, not really. Like I said, it's just a front. Keep this under your hat," he whispers while looking around once again. "she's actually my servant and a provider of many exclusive services, if you catch my drift." he said, nudging you with his elbow.

The rusty gears in your head start turning once again, and as you piece together the information presented, you've come to a dreadful conclusion. You knew there was crime in Equestria, but living in a peaceful town like Ponyville never really did bring up any alarming events…

A little while ago, back home in P0nyville, there was a little foal who wanted to show his peers how much of a badass he was when he tried snatching candy from one of the vendors. The guard caught him shortly after, returned him to his parents, and the poor foal's flank was be beaten black and blue.

Then, there was that one drunkard that one summer night in Ponyville who wouldn't shut the fuck up about something that had to do with wrapping up the winter season or something like that, you weren't too sure. You weren't too familiar with the song he blathered on about, but you were positive it wasn't sung entirely in the same note. The Royal Guards, thankfully, took care of that quickly. Most of the "crime" you ever came across were only minor offenses punishable by law with a slap on the wrist… or forehoof in this case.

But this?! This is some serious shit!

"She's a slave then."

She wasn't just a slave; she was a dolled-up slave, being used to show off her aesthetics as some sort of status symbol to the public in the image of a trophy wife. It was also a way of Mr. Fancy Pants saying: "I have way more money than you and I want you to see it!"

"SHHHH! Not so loud!" Mr. Fancy Pants whispers, waving his hooves frantically. "I believe the more politically correct term would be: an indentured servant offering specialized services."

You turn your attention to Mr. Fancy Pants' eyes as you glare intently at him, as though you were trying to ignite it with your gaze. "Aren't there laws regarding matters such as this?"

"No doubt, but I was told by my provider that it shouldn't be a problem. He's got that part taken care of. Any Royal Guards that get tipped off will never find a thing. Plus as an added bonus, the squealer is well… can't say anything good for them." he replies.

"I... see." you say, with almost no emotion in your voice.

In other words, she's cornered. Even if she tries doing something about it, she'll probably end up with a tragic fate.

In the distance, you see Fleur-De-Lis walking out of the bathroom with her face cleaned, her bleeding mascara wiped off, and it's as though she never cried to begin with. In fact, she's wearing one hell of a smile to hide behind, and it was pretty damn convincing. If she's able to hide it so well, you dread to think that something like this is the norm for her. It's a shit life to be living.

She stops beside Mr. Fancy Pants and leans on him as she wraps her fore hoof around his, acting as his spouse.

"Ready when you are, Sweetheart." she chirps daintily as you feel her stare piercing a hole right through you.

You take in a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you, for you see, your next course of action would be something that would label you a madman, an idiot, a dumbass, a retard, a donkey, you name it! The list goes on. You pinch the bridge of your nose and down your drink in one gulp. Walk away. No… Run. Just fucking run away right now and may the Gods of Nike shine upon you..

"So then, Mr. Fancy Pants," you say, while silently gritting your teeth, "seeing as how she's not really your wife and proving to be more work than what she's worth, is it possible for me to… well… buy her from you?"

You. Fucking. Dolt.

Mr. Fancy Pants' monocle slips from his eye as he lets out a slight gasp. He starts grinning from ear to ear, and as you squint your eyes, you were almost certain you saw the bits symbols in his eyes. And oddly enough, you also swear you hear a cash register bell ringing as well.

"CHA-CHING!" he blurts out.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" you ask, raising an eybrow.

"Oh, nothing." he responds, clearing his throat and placing his monocle back on his eye. "If you are interested in her, I'll cut you a deal since you're a new customer. I could really use a break from her and her incompetence."

"What do I owe you?" you grit, through your teeth.

500 bits for her, upfront." he states.

"500!?" you yell, as your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

"Well, 500 for her and 500 for me." he continues.

"1000?! JESUS ASTERISKS CHRIST!" you scream in utter horror.

"Hmm, I see. If she's too much for you perhaps I can find another client to-"

"Wait!" you interrupt, dragging your hand down your face and nearly wiping your face off your head. "So be it, 1000 bits it is." you utter, almost in defeat.

Your arm starts trembling with some kind of unexplainable resistance as you reach into your pocket; as though your rationality was trying to tell you something. This is your final chance. It's not that hard; just rotate your upper torso away from him and your lower body will follow. After that, simply move your legs in the desired direction, and repeat the previous step until you achieve desired distance and results.

You pull a bag of bits out of your pocket and sift through it. Let's see, you started with about 1500 when you arrived. Hotel, food, a bit of gambling, sight-seeing, tours… After "buying" her from Mr. Fancy Pants, that'll leave you with approximately…

"…Fuck." you mutter silently to yourself. "Wait, why the fuck am I doing this again? It's not even my problem to begin with. Shit, I don't even know her! I should just let her-"

As you gaze suddenly at Fleur's eyes, you cut yourself off and lose your train of thought. They were dolled-up and covered with enough make-up to start a Picasso and Andy Warhol art gallery, but there was something about them... Underneath that exterior of colored powder and artificial beauty was a look of longing and desperation in her eyes. You're not a mind reader and you are probably denser than a board, but even you know (if not, have an idea) of the emotions swirling inside of her. When you saw her laughing and smiling at your moment of shame, she looked… content, free, happy, and genuine.

She was just… herself.

But now, that look of joy in her eyes seemed to have left her. In those very puppy dog eyes you have yourself locked within, they were screaming several things at you… "Please, don't go. Where are you going? Will I ever see you again? It was nice while it lasted, but can it last just a little longer?" Fleur wants to get away from this over-pampered, overdressed, undeserving, up-tight, excessive cologne wearing, shit-squid; even for just a single night. She would be able to forget about the life she lives now doing Celestia-knows-what. You dread to think of the activities that were in store for her tonight, let alone something like this just being: "another day, another bit." To this "damsel in distress", it would mean winning the lottery, feeling content, being on top of the world, just being genuinely happy. She looks like she would give anything for it.

It was all in your hands; you have the ability to control something she probably hasn't felt in a while. Only you have the ability to grant her wish, and could you really put a price on something like that? There probably weren't a lot of colts or p0nies insane enough to give up such a large amount of bits so easily for Fleur-De-Lis, and if they were, they'd probably have less than honorable intentions with her.

…Fuck it. Let's do this. Besides, this might earn you some points with the p0ny up above when you die and stand before the Golden Gate being judged. Heaven BETTER have something worthwhile up there.

"Here," you spat out, tossing the bag of precious bits, "1000 even. No more, no less, and all in its unbent, untarnished, and shining glory."

"Let's see," he says, sifting through it and drooling like a starved tiger in a petting zoo, "Yup, 1000 it is. She's all yours! A pleasure doing business with you, good sir! If at all, I should be thanking you for taking this incompetent boob off my hooves!"

Then why in buttfuck Hell did you just hand him 1000 clams!? He could've just given her to you for free!

"…L-Likewise." you grit through your teeth, forcing a smile and doing your best to hold back an outbreak of obscenities from escaping your mouth.

"Now if you'll excuse me, there's a roulette table calling my name and I'm feeling lucky tonight!" he continues, with his eyes feasting upon your hard-earned fruits of labor.

Mr. Fancy Pants pretty much shoves her in your direction like a plague-infested p0ny and starts happily trotting away, giggling with unsettling glee.

"I hope you fucking choke on them with a side order of barbwire-covered, STD infested dicks, ya fuckin' low-life." you grumble, clenching your fists. Looks like you'll be tightening your belt for the next few days and you'll probably have to cut your vacation short. You just pissed away about a year's worth of savings and right now you were feeling less than stellar at the moment. There were gamblers out there who probably would've held on to that amount of money longer than you have. At least they had a chance of winning it back or even more, despite the slim chances they had at these money sinkers. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Maybe we can still-

"OOF! What the hell?!" you grunt.

You are suddenly cut off as you feel a weight suddenly being placed on your shoulders. It seems that Fleur is on her hind legs and leaning on you, looking off into the distance; as though she was posing for the paparazzi. Well, it makes sense seeing as how she's supposed to be a trophy wife; image was pretty much everything to her.

"Okay! Hold on a second there, Tyra," you demand, backing away from her, "we gotta lay some ground rules, got it?"

She nods, giving you her undivided attention.

"Stop posing around like some kind of weirdo. Just relax and be yourself, alright? Be comfortable. Just… be Fleur, okay?" he contiues.

She looks at you with a puzzled expression, but thankfully she's able to figure it out. Her shoulders start to relax as she lets out a sigh of relief. At the very moment she exhaled, you saw her stomach expand and her back hunch slightly. Thankfully, she now looks less malnourished than before, but she still could use a couple of passes by an all-you-can-eat-buffet.

"Is this to your liking, Master?" she asks, her eyes seeking your approval.

"Yes. I mean, NO! Also that's another thing; don't call me 'Master'! Just call me Eri! Okay? Not 'Master Eri', or 'Mister Eri', or 'Sir', or 'Sire' or whatever. Just Eri. Got it?"

"A-as you wish, Mast- Um… Eri." she stutters, with some evident effort.

With the amount of money you shelled out for her, you're not sure if you can even afford the title to be a master of anything.

"Besides, why are you even still here? You're free, remember? Don't you have family somewhere?" you ask.

"Yes, I do. But they-" she replies, cutoff.

"Then go see them. Go do whatever it is that 'Fleur-De-Lis's'' do in their spare time and leave me out of it. I probably can't even afford it anyways." you sigh.

"Then I shall get my things at once! After that, we can-" she continues.

"Well, go do that." you interrupt, still down about your so-called good deed.

You lay a stack of bits on the bar, and thankfully you had enough to cover your tab, but not his tip. At least Fleur is in high spirits and in a better mood; she gives you a warm smile before dashing off to Celestia-knows-where. She's now free and she can do whatever she pleases without having to answer to some dickbag of a trafficker. Fleur-De-Lis can finally go home and surround herself with her loved ones and positive support. At least she has something to look forward to when she goes home. Unfortunately, you can't really say the same thing; except for a nine-to-five job and a single bedroom "mansion" with your bed and kitchen in the same room. And by "mansion", you mean a room in a warehouse and it was more like a studio apartment. But then again, home was home.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you walk back to your hotel room, your head hanging low.

Seeing as how your vacation just got cut short, you might as well get ready for the trip back home to P0nyville. After making it to your hotel and speaking with the receptionist, you just decide to pack up and head to the train station to see if they have any earlier departures. Staying in this city is serving as a painful reminder of what feels like a catastrophic loss. It's a good thing your ticket was prepaid and a round-trip, otherwise you and Fleur would've probably been doing similar acts of indecency for pay…

You didn't know why you did it. It didn't make any goddamn sense!

Was it out of pity?

Was it because you thought she could've done, had, or deserved better?

Was it because you can't stand seeing freedom being stripped away from her?

Was it on impulse?

Or was it just simply out of kindness?

Maybe hanging out with the Elements of Harmony have something to do with this impulsive act of generosity. They just might be rubbing off on you. You're starting to develop a heart of gold. If that's the case, with today's act of kindness, you'll be living in a cardboard box soon enough. Would SHE have done the same if it were you in her position; if YOU were being sold and treated like some kind of overdressed slave laborer and pleasuring business colts that were probably old enough to have witnessed the creation of fire and the wheel?

Probably not.

With her looks, she could've gotten any colt to worship the ground she walked on. Too bad she was "property" of Mr. Fancy Pants; she definitely deserved better. But she's happy now, and you saw it in her face before you left. That smile she gave you… God-fucking-damn. A hug or maybe even a simple "thank you" would've been nice before she dashed off, but you'll settle for that smile and knowing she has the ability now to make better choices for a brighter future. The deed is done and it's time to cut our losses and move on. Besides, it could've been worse, but let's not challenge fate. Let's wait until we're back on our feet and get things settled back at home.

You arrive at the train station and speak with the clerk as you show her your ticket. What luck! There's a trip departing in about 30 minutes and several cabins are still available! Plus there's no charge for changing it! Looks like Lady Luck hasn't abandoned you just yet; perhaps she's taking pity upon you. Maybe things are looking a little up after all, or maybe it's just the city's way of telling you: "I've got your money. You have nothing else I want. Now fuck off and let me swindle some other poor sap!" As you board the train and enter your designated cabin, you stow your luggage away and flop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The train blows its whistle one last time as a final call to all the passengers before the departure. Let's see, according to your ticket it looks like you'll be arriving in Ponyville around morning or so.

It's a damn shame you couldn't be spending the rest of your time here. You only spent about 2-3 days in Las Pegasus and had about a little under a week or so of vacation time left. Looks like the horrors of boredom will be making a very unwanted visit when you're home. You don't have any roommates to talk to and that little spider in the corner of your apartment doesn't make a very good conversation partner. The train starts to pick up speed as Canterlot now enters your window view, shining brightly in the night and nearly illuminating the mountain it's perched upon. Listening to the rhythmic turning of the locomotive's system, you start dozing off as the train gently rocks you back and forth. The lights in the cabin hallway start dimming, and right now sleep sounds about good; a good night's sleep tends to work wonders for anyone. Hopefully, things will start looking a little better in the morning.

You lock your cabin door and close all the blinds. After tending to your nightly rituals of hygiene, you strip down to your boxers and bury yourself underneath your sheets. There's usually another part of your ritual that satiates certain "longings" and "cravings" you get from time to time, but now isn't the time nor place; there were too many ponies surrounding you, you didn't know how thin the walls were, there might've been children present, and plus you forgot to pack some petroleum jelly.

As you once again stare at the ceiling, it doesn't take long before your eyelids become heavy as you enter a more tranquil state of rest.

**The next morning…**

Sunrise was upon you as Celestia's star lit the sky ever-so-slightly, making it lighter shade of blue. You toss and turn in your bed, trying to get comfortable. Your eyelids refuse to open, but you're partially awake and somewhat aware of your location and surroundings. After tumbling around like an epileptic pig in the mud, you finally settle down in a more complacent position while burying your face underneath the pillow.

"Ahem." you hear.

Your eyes open slightly as you hear somepony clearing their throat in your room. And it sounds rather feminine.

"Oh," you mumble, half asleep, "if you're here to verify my check-in, my train ticket's in- **YAAAAWWWWNNNN** -in the right pocket of my pants."

Damn conductor here doesn't have any courtesy; barging in like that while you're asleep. Who the hell does she think she is?

"AHEM!"

She's pretty persistent, and this time she's a little louder.

"If your throat's bothering you, they have a gift shop here. Just over the next cabin," you mumbled, trying to hold back the sarcasm in your voice, "and I'm pretty sure they have some cough drops you can buy. That and a few tablespoons of honey will do wonders for an itching throat."

You don't hear a trail of hoof steps leaving your cabin, and the smell of perfume still permeates your room.

"You're still there, aren't you?" you ask, half awake.

Her presence is becoming harder to ignore; maybe it has something to do with the excessive amounts of perfume she bathed in and the fact that she's becoming harder to ignore makes her harder to ignore. You kick your sheets off as you toss the pillows aside.

"I ought to take my ticket and-!"

But she speaks first before you start giving this invasive conductor a piece of your mind.

"Good morning, Master!" she greets.

Master? What kind of train service is this!?

"I trust you've slept well this morning." she chirps. "How may I serve you today, Master Eria?"

Serve?! Master Eria?!

"Okay, listen. I-"

You cut yourself off when you see a very familiar pony standing right in front of you. She's smiling as brightly as ever, definitely not in the same state of shock as jaw falls to the ground as your left eye twitches.

No…

You've got be fucking kidding.

"F-FLEUR-DE-LIS?!" you scream.

"Yes, Master? What is it you need?" she replies, calmly.

"Why are you here and how the hell did you find me?!" you ask, in a frantic state.

"Back at the casino, I went to get my things. But when I returned you were nowhere to be found! Thankfully, I was able to track you down and found out that you were taking the next train to this 'Ponyville' place!" she declares with that as-a-matter-of-fact tone in her voice. "I will admit however, that you move rather fast; I almost missed the train! Thank goodness I didn't!"

"Yeah, thank God for that." you reply dryly. "Now tell me: WHY are you here and why are you watching me sleep?"

"Well, how else can I tend to my master's needs if I'm not there for him?" she asks, blinking her long eye lashes at you.

"M-Master?! What the panty-drying hell are you talking about?! You're free! Nopony 'owns' you anymore, remember?" you spat out.

"Forgive me for um… c-contradicting you, Master… But um," she mumbles, fidgeting her hooves and looking away from you, "you own me. YOU are my master now."

"Since when?"

"Ever since you purchased me."

"S-SINCE WHEN?!" you argue, on the brink of losing your shit.

"Last night, at the casino from Mr. Fancy Pants." she replies, as calmly as ever.

"No, I bought you your freedom; NOT YOU! You're free! How many times do I have to reiterate this?! You don't even have to fight traffic for me! You can do whatever the hell you want!"

"I'm… free?" she asks, as though having a choice was a foreign concept to her.

"Yes! Goddamn!" you utter, throwing your hands up in the air.

"So, I can make my own decisions now, right?" she asks, with a more uplifting tone in her voice.

"Thassright!" you cheer. "You ARE a big pony and you can decide things for yourself: like whether you should stay up past nine or have ice cream for dinner!"

"Then I have come to a decision!" she proudly states, sticking her nose in the air.

"Atta' girl! What is it?" you ask, curious of her first decision as a free mare.

"To serve you and ONLY you, Master Eri! I will devote every single waking moment of my life to you from here on out!" she replies, excited and eager.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! NO!" you screech, burying your face into your hands. "We seriously need to work on our communication here. You see, Miss Fleur-De-Lis, that's not how it works. You can make other decisions such as-"

"Attention passengers, this is the conductor speaking" the intercom interrupts, "we will be arriving in P0nyvile in about 15 minutes or so. Please prepare your belongings before we reach our destination. Thank you and have a nice day!"

"OH, HEEEEEEELL NO!" you scream at the top of your lungs.

You leap out of your bed and mush your face against the glass of the train window. Ponyville was within view and you were approaching it pretty damn fast. You are almost home, and you're going to have one hell of a time explaining to your friends this very expensive and unwanted "souvenir" you have purchased.

...But that, my friends, will be a story for another time.

The end.


End file.
